


Us Agaist The World, Babe

by I_Am_Titanium



Series: Mi Vida Loca [2]
Category: Marvel, Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Law-Breakingly Protective, Prompt Fic, Protective Girlfriend, So y'all know the deal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-23
Updated: 2018-04-23
Packaged: 2019-04-26 21:08:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14410608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/I_Am_Titanium/pseuds/I_Am_Titanium
Summary: Spy ladies are weird. They can tell you 34 different ways to lose someone on your tail ANd the. Most. Corny. Line. EVER.





	Us Agaist The World, Babe

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by that new Black Widow comic (yeah I know, not exactly new now) when I first read about Nat being a wanted criminal for crimes she didn't actually commit. I couldn't help but imagine what Bobbi would do. And the answer was quite clear.
> 
> Unbeta'd, all mistakes belong to me and the spy ladies belong with each other.

> \- If the whole world betrayed you, Nat, I'd stand by your side and betray the whole world, together.
> 
> \- Ew, shut up, Miss I-think-my partner-is-as-dumb-as-me-and-would-definitely-buy-my-brilliant-sweet-nothing.
> 
> \- Hey, you used to call me god. You know, the other night? Now you're just being rude.
> 
> \- God, shut up.
> 
> \- Much better. What a cute nickname you pick for me, honey.
> 
> \- Why aren't you wanted for irritating people to death already?!

 

The weather was surprisingly pleasant for a New York in deep winter. There was a fall of snow a few days back, and now the shining sun was reflected by the snow-capped streets, lighting up the entire world, too warm and bright as if the spring had already returned.  
  
It would be such a waste to just go back and curl up in the apartment with an acting-up central heating. So Bobbi went strolling along the sidewalk with hands in her pockets, whistling the Beatles’ "And I Love Her" when some completely irrelevant thoughts hit her.  
  
She stopped in the middle of the road to grab her phone in her pocket. Several passersby bumped into her and several curses were thrown at her way. She replied with apologetic smile before glancing the phone, pretending to check the time. A useful spy trick.  
  
It was never about the phone. Bobbi shot a quick glimpse at the reflection in the window-shop beside her. Two men (or rather boys. They were just so young) in suit stopped in the middle of a flock of people as well. Thank goodness they weren’t wearing black windbreakers or sunglasses like those idiots who actually thought they were showing off in spy pulps, but they really couldn’t be more conspicuous. The blonde could easily tell which kinds of movement were out of ordinary when she first started her career, let along she had enhanced hearing now.  
  
(Yep. Never heard any static or distinct communication exchanged. They even managed to keep a proper distance—like hell.)  
  
The senior agent (compared to _them_ , certainly) shook her head in amusement and stopped again, this time to turn into a small market at a fork.  She bought some carrots and tomato, thinking about cooking something special later. _Among other things._  
  
And those two amateurs never ceased making noise during her selection.  
  
 _…God, the Academy let those losers graduate now?_  
  
Bobbi carried her new trophies toward the direction opposite to her apartment, her pace increased subtly. In the corner of her eyes as she turned her head slightly, they practically started running while hailing the headquarter anxiously, almost as if afraid that they didn’t stand out enough to draw the target’s attention.  
  
—Wow, target. It was really unusual, being the prey once in a while after being the predator for far too long—mainly because these two "hunters" were too, well, boring.  
  
She slipped past a street corner and hid in a dead-ended dark ally, back against the wall, waiting for them to run past after putting down the paper bag. And when they did, she extended a leg to tripped them, grabbing them by the collars, half pushing, half carrying them into the alley.  
  
"Stalking 101, rookies, make as little noise as possible. You’re supposed to stalk someone, for crying out loud. The helicarrier won’t crush even if you don’t report in every two minute."  
  
The blonde stood there with hands on her hips, watching them tripping over each other. She eventually sighed and gave in, extending her hands nonetheless. One of them took it and stood up, but the other batted her hand away.  
  
 _…That really wasn't a polite thing to do._  
  
"Now you want to play tough, kid?" Her stare cut from one ashamed face to another, "Do you ever bother to read the files before jumping right in? Or even a little warning that I might be hard? I mean, it’s 21st century and all. It was completely okay for a girl to best you, right? So who the hell are your instructors in the academy?"  
  
"Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division, ma’am, but I think… you already knew." The agent that turned down her help stood up after some struggle and pulled out a badge from his front pocket with difficulty as if the embarrassment a minute ago never happened, "We just have a few questions to ask you, Ms Morse."  
  
"First, it’s 'Agent Morse' for you. Second, even a 'ma’am' knows you shouldn’t put too much stuff in your front pocket…" Bobbi rubbed the bridge of her nose, feeling a little headache coming her way. _Jesus Christ, they are really pathetic._  
  
"How may I be of assistance?" She really wasn’t in the mood for this.  
  
"Please, cut them some slack, Agent Morse, considering it’s their first field mission." A familiar voice and engine roaring came from above. The blonde looked up, a little surprised, to see a transparent but clearly flying car and her owner.  
  
"Good morning, Agent Coulson. You’d better explain to me in the next two minutes why S.H.I.E.L.D. would send these clowns to ruin my perfect morning."  
  
The cloaked car floated in the air as the middle-aged agent jumped on the dumpster than to the ground. Bobbi backed up a step to make room for him, arms crossing over her chest, asking a seemingly innocent question.Her mind briefly flied to a redhead feeding her corgi while patting its head.  
  
"Natasha Romanov. The Black Widow." The man got straight to the point, his hazel eyes sparkling as if he could dig out the secret one has hidden deep beneath.  
  
—But dealing with the Mockingbird? He had to do better than that.  
  
"She’s S.H.I.E.L.D.’s most wanted now."  
  
"So I’ve heard." The blonde replied casually—almost too casually, her upper body leaning against the rough bricks, "So what?"  
  
"You two were close before her act of treason. Maybe you still _are_." He paused, trying to convey his intention more tactfully, "We want to make sure—"  
  
"—if she reached out in her run. Figured. You probably need to redefine the word _'close'_. Let me guess, you put every senior female agent in S.H.I.E.L.D. on the list, don’t you?" She snorted at his beating around the bush even when she was well aware he was just out of habit, but this really wasn’t necessary, "Have you checked Sharon? Daisy? Even Jess? They are both spider ladies, after all. Arachnids of eight legs and all that, I'm sure you've heard before."  
  
"You know this isn’t the way we handle things, Bobbi." There was a hint of anger in his voice but his face remained calm, "Answer my question. Did she?"  
  
Bobbi shifted her weight onto another leg, choosing her next words very carefully.  
  
"We’re spies, Phil. We aren’t supposed to say what we really mean."  
  
"It concerns national security, Agent Morse." His expression was hard and stubborn, "Too important to leave any rooms for riddles."  
  
"No, Coulson, she didn’t reach out, not to me." the blonde replied immediately this time, the corner of her mouth twisted into a sarcastic smile as if scorning him for ignoring such an obvious fact, "In case you haven’t noticed, she’s Black Widow. Black Widow is close to no one."  
  
"I understand it’s a serious matter, Phil. It’s exactly why I will tell the truth. Even if I do hold back certain details about our… _relationship_ , I know damn well how to compartmentalize my  work and personal life." She added more after the statement, realizing that was not convincing. "Were these enough to answer your 'question'?"  
  
(He was looking for any tiny signs suggesting it was a lie. It was really a shame that far too many lies had wiped away any "micro-expression" bullshit.)  
  
"I think so." He finally compromised and chose to believe what he knew, like so many people.  
  
"And Phil?" Bobbi picked up her paper bags and headed for the alley exit, "Next time you want to do something furtive, send real espionage experts—these funny fellows seem to come straight from 007 studio."  
  
  
  
Twenty minutes later, on stepping over the front door…  
  
A familiar clicked burst out behind the blonde.  
  
"Hands up."  
  
She obeyed, but not without swaying the paper bag in her hand. "I brought you tomatoes and carrots."  
  
"For your infamous granny-recipe soup?"  
  
"What can I say? My hidden telepathy power seems to work out only for you."  
  
The corner of her mouth began to turn brightly somewhere mid-sentence. Bobbi put down the paper bag and turned around, arms open wide for the redhead. Their lips crushed together for a brief moment.  
  
Natasha picked up the bag and glimpsed inside before sighing, content. "I love you so much."  
  
Bobbi sat down on the couch and held up the mug of coffee the Russian surely made not long ago. She couldn’t help but grin at the words. "We’re spies, Nat. We’re never supposed to say what we really mean."  
  
"And you think spies are not supposed to harbor felons in their house." Natasha pointed it out, faking pissed with a pout.  
  
"Fair enough." Bobbi beamed with amusement, patting the space beside her so Natasha could come join her and snuggle, "I think we’re both gonna make exceptions for each other."


End file.
